


Purgatory, North Dakota

by kaianieves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar, Bar Fight, Debt, Drinking, F/F, Family Issues, Post-Divorce, Smoking, annaby - Freeform, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17283002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaianieves/pseuds/kaianieves





	1. Chapter 1

I stepped out of the monstrous eye sore, slamming the car door and looking up at the house. It was a faded grey-brown, and the porch had a hole covered with nailed down wood planks where the house inspector had fallen through.

The town of Purgatory, North Dakota was small. A population of 2,000, fifty three percent of which were over the age of sixty five. One high school, a concert hall that hosted C-list country stars once every year. It was the perfect definition of in-decline middle America.

The name on the deed of the house was a tricky thing for me before I moved. When I bought it, I was unfortunately still Anna Milton-Winchester, but then my ex-husband Dean and I got divorced. I had been planning to do so for a while, I just hadn’t thought it through when I bought the house.

After all the complications with that, and my family basically declaring I was a disgrace, I moved from Lawrence, Kansas to “the town of purification”, as the welcome sign boasted. A little odd, but most things from the 1960s are.

Was I looking to be purified? Most certainly not. I was just figuring everything out. My life was a complicated mess at the time, and moving away from all the hustle and bustle, the ashamed family and the pressure of my friends to “get back out there” was going to be helpful. First I just had to move into the house.

I had four boxes in my back seat, and two larger ones in my trunk. My brother, Castiel, had come over to my old apartment to pack them. The TV, sofa, dinner table and my bed were on the U-Haul he was going to drive up in a week. Castiel wished he could have driven up sooner, but he had work. I told him not to worry about it.

I grabbed the first box marked ‘Clothes’ and walked it to the wooden steps of the house. I tested out the stability of the bottom stair by stepping on it for a moment. When I didn’t fall through, I set the box down. I went back and forth between the car and the house, getting all the boxes; ‘Living Room’, ‘Kitchen’, ‘Books’. The box I struggled with most was the largest one, which Cas had labeled ‘Heavy Shit’. Go figure.

The realtor, Fergus MacLeod, had left the keys in the bare bones mailbox. The thing was rusted and the paint was almost completely chipped away. I was surprised it didn’t fall off when I opened it and reached in. There were two keys and a sticky note.

_‘Red key: house/garage  
_

_Gold key: shed’_

I stuck the note in my pocket, and looked at the door. It was supposed to be white, but with the rain and dirt, the paint had chipped and given way to ugly, faded wood. I stuck the red key in the lock, and after some jimmying, the door swung open with a creak.

You might be wondering why I had bought such a shitty house. It’d been foreclosed, gone through a few freeze and thaw seasons. Before the house inspector fell through the porch, he’d told me that there was a lot of work to be done if I was going to buy it. Poor Mr. Fitzgerald punctuated his point by falling through the floor and breaking his neck.

I carried the boxes inside and set them down in the middle of what was going to be the living room. The walls had peeling, yellowed wallpaper, and the light switches didn’t have wall plates. I switched them on and off, and was extremely relieved to find out they actually worked.

Walking into the kitchen, I saw that the white tile floors were cracked. The laminate counter tops looked like something from the mid ‘70s. The cupboards were an off-white, the edges peeling off in some places, covered in tape in others. The overhead light had a broken light bulb in it. I hadn’t even gotten upstairs yet and I knew this house was a disaster. An extremely expensive disaster.

I was going to be able to afford it, though. The benefits of having a cheating, successful lawyer ex-husband? Lots of money in the divorce settlement.

I walked up the stairs carefully, examining the walls and windows. There was a large window with a ledge at the top of the staircase, and you could see the dust. The window looked like it had a small rock thrown through it, that I found a few feet away.

There were two bedrooms, a bathroom and a linen closet upstairs. The bedrooms were in the same condition as the living room. The wallpaper was different, and there was an antique-looking corduroy arm chair that had sat in the corner of the larger room, collecting dust for who knows how long.

“You probably have some sort of mite on you,” I addressed the chair. That’s what reminded me I hadn’t talked to a human being in almost two days, and that Cas was probably getting worried.

I reached into my back pocket, pulling out my new flip phone. During the divorce process, Dean kept calling my cell all the time. I tried a new phone number, but with his resources he was able to find that too. A burner phone wasn’t the end of the world, and was kind of my only option.

I dialed Cas’ number, walking around, looking at the ceiling as I waited. I noticed something strange up there just as he picked up.

“Anna?” he asked.

“Hey, little brother. Just calling because I know you’d be freaking out if I didn’t,” I said, squinting at the ceiling.

“Yeah, yeah. You can’t blame me for getting worried about you,” Cas said defensively.

“I don’t. Quite frankly, I think it’s adorable. Just like how you’d freak out when I scraped my knees in softball when we were little,” I said.

“Oh, yeah. Well, y’know, I wasn’t too concerned.”

“Mhm. Tears streaming down your chubby baby cheeks whenever I made home runs while everyone else was cheering. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Cas. It’s what makes you human, and that’s one of the reasons you’re my favourite brother.”

“I’m your  _only_  brother, Anna,” Cas said.

“Trust me, I know,” I said. I reached up, touching the ceiling. One rectangular-shaped patch felt different from the rest of it. I walked back down the stairs, heading for the ‘Heavy Shit’ box in the living room. “So how’ve you been?” I asked.

I ripped off the duct tape from the box as Cas answered, straining to hear what he said. “I’ve been alright. Work is work; never boring, but the pay is crap. I need to eat though.”

“You still training that newbie?” I asked as I started rummaging through the box, looking for something.

“Alex Jones?” Cas asked. “No, no. She isn’t working in the ER anymore. She went up to the maternity ward for a little while.”

“Cool,” I said, standing up from leaning over the box. Digging through all the miscellaneous crap in there, I had found my pocket knife my father had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday. My mother thought it was the ungodliest thing in the world, or at least acted it. Said it was “unladylike” for little Anna to have such a thing. I wished I’d brandished it at her.

“So how’s the house?” Cas asked. I heard the overhead speaker make an announcement in the background.

I sighed. He was still at work, of course. I hadn’t paid attention to the time. “The house is a train wreck, but it’s fine,” I said, making my way back upstairs. “I just found some mystery in my ceiling upstairs, but you’re still at work, so you don’t get to have the experience of finding out what it is with me.”

“Ah, come on, Anna. It’s a five minute phone call, it’s honestly not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” I said. “Look. I’ve already bothered you enough with the move and the… Everything else. Now you need to do what you need to do, and I need to let you do that.”

“I can stay on the phone a little while longer,” he excused.

“You’re a nurse, in the emergency room. Time is elusive to you. Now, go save some lives,” I said into the phone. I didn’t give him time to reply, hanging up and flipping the phone closed. I stuck it in my back pocket again.

I felt around the ceiling, finding that odd patch again. I began cutting into the ceiling, plaster falling onto my face and hair. Eventually, I had cut a nearly perfect rectangle. Using the knife, I pried under the plaster, seeing some sort of wood underneath. Plaster fell to the floor, and soon it was all removed, making room to see a small wooden door with a keyhole. But the note hadn’t said anything about hidden doors in walls.

I was going to need another key. 

* * *

I swung my keys around on my lanyard, walking through the gravel parking lot into work. For once I was having a pretty decent day. Although most of my days were pretty shit, either having to deal with Mr. Miller’s penny pinching at the laundromat, or the same touchy guys at the pub that Benny always had to throw out at the end of the night. So the bar was set pretty low.

It was six when I got to the pub, but the place hadn’t filled up. Benny was wiping down the counter when he spotted me in the doorway. “Hey darlin’. How are you doin’ tonight?” he asked.

I smiled at him as I walked behind the bar. “I’m doing alright, Benny. You?” I asked, shoving my keys in my jacket pocket.

“Oh, I’m good. My back’s been hurtin’ a little lately, but I’ll be alright,” Benny said. When he was dragging those fools out the other night, he’d strained something pretty bad. I took him to the hospital, but Benny didn’t have the right insurance.

I frowned. “I’m so sorry, Benny. Honestly–”

“It’s fine, darlin’. Not your fault, it’s those damn buffoons who can’t behave themselves in my pub. I’ll make it through.” He smiled at me, but he was still bracing against the edge of the counter. I had to do  _something_  to help him.

That was something that I had a problem with. I always felt the need to help everyone, all the time. It ended up screwing me over more than once, of course. I never seemed to learn. It’s how I ended up back in Purgatory, after all. But I figured that was a bit of a different situation. When it’s family, it always is.

Two hours passed, and the seats at Earl’s filled up with our rowdy regulars. Bobby Singer and I were catching up, as he’d been out of state for the past couple of weeks. He was by far my favourite customer. Bobby wasn’t grabby, he was polite. Bobby was too old for me, and he knew that as well as I did. I’d known him for almost five years now, since I’d started working here when I came back to town. He’d become sort of like a father to me, really.

“So Rufus is finding work down in Nevada? That’s good,” I said.

Bobby took a sip of his whiskey. “Yep. He’s got a nice fancy apartment now and everything. Right now he’s with a crew building a new casino in Las Vegas. Got him some Johnny Walker Blue as a housewarming gift,” Bobby said.

“Look at you, splurging. I’m shocked, you haven’t bought anything other than army surplus in what? My lifetime?” I asked.

“Hey, watch it kid. I like the way I dress; comfortable. Besides, you think I got anyone in this town I wanna’ impress?” Bobby asked.

“Maybe not in  _this_  town, but what about that lady friend of yours a few states over? Ellen?” I asked.

Bobby looked down at his drink, and I knew I’d got him. “She’s from Nebraska, and yes her name is Ellen, and she is my friend. Your point?” he asked.

“I think you already know my point, Singer,” I said. With that, I walked away, collecting the empty glasses and tips from the counter top. I put the tips in the tip jar behind the bar, and looked around for our waitress, Meg. I spotted her walking back from the floor with a tray of glasses.

“Meg, can you send these back for me? I’ll grab some fresh ones.”

“Sure thing,” she said, taking my glasses and putting them on her tray. I glanced back at the bar. Seeing Bobby still sipping his drink and Benny having the other patrons covered, I followed Meg to the back. She went left, to give the glasses to Krissy, our new pot washer, and I went right to grab clean glasses.

I turned around too quickly when I heard a commotion behind the door, dropping a glass.

“Shit,” I muttered, setting the other glasses down again and crouching to pick up the glass. Meg grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back up.

“I’ve got this covered. Go check out what’s going on out there,” she nodded towards the door. I said a quick thanks, making my way around the glass and back out to the pub.

There was a fight going on between two large men, one was holding an empty beer bottle. The one with the bottle broke the end off on the bar, charging the second man. Benny made his way around the bar to intervene.

“Hey! Hey!” he yelled. Benny got in the middle of them, and the man with the bottle punched him in the jaw. I couldn’t do anything but stand there as the man with the bottle kept hitting him, Benny only getting a few punches back at him.

Bobby stood from his seat at the bar, heading over to the scuffle. The other man who’d previously been in the fight was crawling away slowly, his face bruised and mildly bloody.

There was slicing noise, and then Benny cried out in pain. He stumbled back from the man with the bottle, holding his side. I caught a glimpse of blood seeping through his shirt. Bobby was still wrestling the bottle away from the man, but he eventually pried it out of his hand. He put the man in a sleeper hold, and he dropped to the floor.

“Ruby?” I heard behind me. I turned around. It was Meg. “What happened?” she asked. That’s when my brain kicked in, and I rushed towards Benny who was leaning against the bar. I tried to get a look at the wound, but Benny wouldn’t move his hands.

“I need to see it, okay? I’m so sorry,” I said for the second time that night. When he did move his hands, I could see the cuts were deep, and there was definitely a shard or two of glass in there. “Shit,” I said under my breath.

“How’s it lookin’, doc?” Benny asked, laughing a little. Then he groaned in pain.

“Holy shit,” Meg said, looking at the scene. I glanced at the door, seeing Bobby there, ushering customers out for the night. He walked back, looking at the three of us.

“Holy shit is right,” he said. Krissy walked out from the back to see all of us.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Benny, are you alright?”

“Just fine, darlin’.”

“That is the worst lie I think I’ve ever heard,” I said.

“Meg, get the zip ties. Put this idjit outside on the bench for when the cops come, they’re on their way. Ruby, can you take Benny to the hospital? We’ll clean up in here,” Bobby said.

“You really don’t have to do that,” I said.

“Yeah, I do. Now get goin’, before he bleeds to death.” Bobby shooed us out the front doors of Earl’s Pub, and I helped Benny to my car. I stuck him in the passenger seat, closing the door and quickly making my way to the driver’s side.

“This is a nice car you got here,” he said as I turned the key in the ignition.

“Thanks,” I said. “I got it a few years ago.”

“Before you came back to town, then. No way Devereaux Motors sells something as nice as this,” Benny said.

I was quiet for a moment, thinking of what to say. I did that a lot. I wasn’t a very open person, so I tried to give people information without ever really giving them information. Telling the same stories, but changing a thing or two to make them seem a little different. Like that time my father took me to a Red Sox game. Sometimes it’s a Rangers game, or maybe the Atlanta Braves. In reality, it was a Fighting Hawks game where my father made me cry before leaving me at the stadium out of anger. I didn’t see him again for a long time.

But of course, Benny doesn’t need to know that. “Road trip with some friends. We did a lot of stupid shit, and I ended up running into some cash. Bought myself a nice car,” I said nonchalantly.

Benny hummed in acknowledgement, looking down at his stab wound. “You know the hospital ain’t gonna’ treat me, right?” he asked.

“Of course I know that. Bobby doesn’t need to, though. Does he?” I asked, glancing at him for a moment.

“No, ma’am. The less that old man has to worry about, the better,” Benny agreed.

You could tell Bobby was good people, because so many cared about him. He used to be the town drunk, I remember my mother complaining about his antics when I was a little girl. But he’d cleaned up his act after his wife left him. Opened a salvage yard and a car repair shop, and invested a little money into the town, for whatever reason. Probably because he saw it’s potential to be something good. That made one of us.

When we got to my apartment building, I parked the car and helped Benny into the building. The stairs were a struggle and the hallway smelled like piss. Eventually we made it to my door, and I leaned Benny against the ugly green wall while I unlocked it. I carried him inside, setting him on the sofa and heading back to lock the door again. I made sure to latch the deadbolt; even small towns had bad areas.

I searched underneath my sink before I found a first aid kit and some tweezers. I made it back to the sofa, crouching in front of Benny and lifting his shirt up where the bottle had stabbed him. When I dabbed at the wound with gauze soaked in rubbing alcohol, he winced.

“Sorry,” I muttered, focusing on cleaning the wound. It wasn’t oozing as much blood anymore, but there were still glass shards in there, and he needed to be stitched up and bandaged. I poured some rubbing alcohol over the tweezers, taking them to the wound and grabbing onto an amber glass shard. Benny yelped. “Sorry!” I said loudly.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Benny said, breathing deeply. I removed another and he grunted. “You know, you’re good at this whole doctor thing,” he commented. Here was another thing I had to take a moment to think about. I was good at this because my father used to come home battered and bruised from the exact place Benny owned and I worked, just when it was under different management. 

A bottle of vodka, my mother’s sewing kit and my Hello Kitty band aids were always in the bottom kitchen drawer, waiting for the next time I’d need them. There was always a next time.

“My father used to get into a few bar brawls. Without me, I think he’d have died of blood loss or something.” Not that I would have minded.

“Where’s your old man now?” Benny asked, sucking in air through his teeth at the end of the sentence as I laid the first stitch.

“Six feet under. Bad liver. Go figure,” I said. Benny didn’t have anything to say to that. While I stitched up the rest of the wound and put a large bandage over it, it was silent, seldom a grunt from Benny here and there. I put Benny’s bloodstained shirt in the wash, giving him a clean one I’d gotten at a Vince Vincente concert that was too big for me.

“I should get goin’, Ruby,” he said, making his way off the couch. I glared at him.

“Benny, it’s late. You don’t have a ride and you’re hurt. Just lay your ass down and have a rest, would you? It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive.” I went back into my room, grabbing Benny a pillow and blanket. I entered the living room where he was laying down on the couch. “Here,” I said, tossing them to him. I turned to go back to my room when he said my name, stopping me.

“Yeah?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Thank you, for helping me and all,” Benny said.

I smiled at him. “Not a problem. It’s what I do.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, taking off my boots and my clothes, leaving me in my underwear. I laid down, looking up at the ceiling, and sighed. Tonight had been exhausting. Luckily, with all the antics of the bar fight, I got off my shift early. That was probably a horrible thing to feel lucky about.

After all, it was just another normal day in Purgatory.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Benny was back at work. The bar was the usual, but there were less pervy guys this week, it seemed. Everything seemed to be on the up and up.

Until I checked my bank account. I thought I’d at least had a couple hundred, but I was in the red. Just a hundred dollars, but rent was coming up in a few days, and everyone knew that Nick was merciless when it came to rent payments. He was already a scumbag, not actually taking care of the building and inflating the rent ridiculously. Suddenly I felt anxious, like I was going to puke.

“You okay?” Krissy asked, glancing up from the dishes she was doing. “You look a little green.”

“Fine. Just, uh- going to go out for a smoke,” I excused. She nodded, going back to the plates. I walked out the back, reaching into my back pocket for the Marlboro’s I’d bought a few days ago. Ms. Mills’ daughter, Claire, gave me a sympathetic look as she sold them to me. I’d known her since she was in diapers, and her generation had this whole thing about smoking; not that her mother would approve either. It was a nasty habit, I knew. Life just never seemed convenient enough to try and quit. There was always something going wrong.

I lit the cigarette, taking it to my lips and inhaling. One thing I would never get used to was the aftertaste of cigarettes. I thought it was absolutely disgusting. The back door creaked open, and I turned to see Meg walk out and smile at me. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I replied. She took out a cigarette from her jacket pocket along with a lighter. After a couple tries, it still wouldn’t work, so I offered her mine. “Here,” I said, handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the lighter. Mine worked on the first try, and she brought the cigarette between her lips. Meg handed me the lighter back as she exhaled smoke into the cold air. “So how’ve you been lately?” she asked.

“Good. You?” I asked. Meg laughed, but it sounded depressing.

“Shit. I keep having nightmares about the other night,” Meg said.

“Benny?” I asked. Meg nodded. “Yeah. Shit’s scary. I’m just glad he’s up and about again.”

After a beat of silence, Meg asked, “Did you actually take him to the hospital?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You think Benny has that kind of money?” I asked rhetorically. Meg already knew the answer, because we all did. Even Bobby, though for some reason he’d always been a bit more hopeful than the rest of us. Maybe because he’d retired. He didn’t work in the modern world, he lived in what seemed like paradise, at least for a guy like him. Back when Purgatory was in its glory days, and anything remotely off-putting was normalized or never mentioned. Putting it that way, it didn’t sound too much like paradise anymore.

“No, I didn’t,” I answered. “But I cleaned the wound, sewed it up. He’ll be fine,” I said, but truly I was just hoping. “What’re your dreams about?” I asked.

“It’s just him- dying. And I shouldn’t be so worried, or maybe so attached. But I care about him, y’know. I worry,” Meg said. I took another drag on my cigarette. “I worry about you sometimes, too.”

“And why is that?” I asked, exhaling.

“Well to start, you live in Ferndale.” I turned to her.

“So? You live out in the middle of nowhere, with racist country bumpkins who love their guns,” I said.

“But how likely is it for one of them to come after me, really. I may live in the middle of nowhere, but that just means all the more forest to hide in,” Meg stated. “You live in that–”

“You can say shithole,” I interrupted.

“That ugly apartment. And I’ve been to your apartment, Ruby. The locks barely work, it smells like piss, it’s in Ferndale,” Meg stopped, taking another drag of her cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and crushing it under her boot. “I worry.”

“Well, unless I want to work myself to death, I’m not getting out of Ferndale any time soon,” I said. I crushed my cigarette under my heel as well, looking up at Meg. “So I guess you’re going to just have to keep worrying.” I walked back to the door, opening it. I looked back at her, the fluorescent lights shining onto her face and reflecting in the small pools of rain water. “You coming?” I asked.

* * *

“No, Mr. MacLeod. I need a key- not the keys you gave me. There’s a door in the ceiling… Yes, a door in the ceiling. No… No I am not intoxicated, thank you very much. There is a door in the ceiling that was hidden. The doorknob is black… You don’t have anymore keys for my house… Alright. Alright, thank you Mr. MacLeod. You have a nice day now.” I hung up the phone, sighing. I’d been looking for this elusive key all week, hoping that it would pop up somewhere in the house. Calling the realtor was my last resort, and he seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.

The doorbell rang, and from the kitchen I quickly walked to the front door. I had a very special guest arriving today, finally; Castiel, as well as my furniture. Instead of in my sleeping bag on the floor, I’d found myself falling asleep in that corduroy armchair. Now my bed was here, and my back would gladly thank me.

I opened the door, greeted by my brother’s smile and bright blue eyes. We didn’t really look related, but that was because we both looked almost exactly like our parents; me our mother, and him our father. “Cas!” I said, pulling him in for a hug. He laughed, hugging me back.

“Hey, Anna,” he said. We separated, and I looked at him. “How have you been?”

“Well, good for the most part. I’m having trouble finding this key, but- I’ll explain later. How have you been? You look like shit,” I said bluntly. Castiel laughed again.

“Well,” he said, stepping inside. He took off his shoes as I closed the door behind him. “Like you said, I’m an ER nurse. Time is pretty elusive. I’ve worked a few twelve hour shifts this week…” Cas trailed off. I held my gaze, making him finish the sentence. “In a row.”

“Oh my god,” I said. “Is-is that even legal? Are you okay? If you haven’t gotten rest, you shouldn’t be driving down here.”

“It’s fine, Anna. Really. I got some sleep last night, and I’m sure I’ll get some this weekend,” Cas smiled again.

“Wait, you’re staying the weekend?” I asked. Cas nodded. “Great. Then you can help me with something.”

I led him upstairs, right under the space in the ceiling where the door was. “That’s odd,” he commented.

“Exactly. Plus, it’s locked and the key doesn’t even seem to exist,” I said.

“Have you tried calling–”

“The realtor? Yep. Trust me, the first thing on my mind was WWCD- What would Castiel do.”

“Well, I could pick the lock,” Castiel offered.

“You can pick locks?” I asked. It was the first time I’d heard of this.

“Yeah. You’re not the only one who had a rebellious phase in high school, Anna. While you were off canoodling with Dean, I was quite the bad boy.” Cas puffed out his chest comedically, and I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Dean. God, Dean. So many wasted years on that asshole, all my potential gone into that failed relationship. Castiel seemed to notice.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just um… Thinking. What would you need to pick it?” I asked.

“You got some hairpins?” he asked.

I didn’t, but it was safe to assume that the variety store I’d passed as I drove into town did. You could tell when you got into the town, because the trees thinned out and gave way to city-like landscape. “There’s a bar,” Castiel pointed out. I glanced out his window for a moment, seeing a bright neon sign that read ‘Earl’s Pub’.

“Wanna’ get absolutely smashed, little brother?” I asked sarcastically. Castiel cleared his throat, and I shook my head, smiling as I kept my eyes on the road. It was time for one of his voices again.

“Totally, bro-sky. We’ll down those brews like no frat house has ever before. Kappa Theta Pi!” he said in his “frat boy” voice. We both broke down laughing. It was an interesting thing. The week had been bleak and even frustrating with this key nonsense, and yet when Castiel showed up things seemed so much better.

“I miss this,” I said sentimentally. I saw Cas look at me from the corner of my eye.

“Me too,” he said.

I parked in front of the store, getting out of the car and closing the door behind me. Castiel joined me on the sidewalk, and I locked the car doors. “Good idea,” he said. “This doesn’t look like… the best of neighbourhoods.” I elbowed him in the side. “Ow. What?” he asked.

“Don’t be so judgemental. I’m sure it’s a fine neighbourhood,” I said. Castiel shook his head, but followed me into the convenience store. The lights cast a blue hue onto everything inside, and there was a young blonde woman at the elevated cash register. She smiled at us.

I smiled back, and we passed her, going into the aisles. There was gum and candy in one, and canned goods in another. Eventually we came to a small shelf of hair things, including hairpins. “Perfect,” I said, handing them to Castiel. I looked around the store, seeing that they had fridges with beer in them. “I’m going to grab us some drinks, actually. Anything specific?”

“Anything with an alcohol content higher than six percent. It’s been a long week,” he said. I made my way to the drinks, opening the door and glancing at a six pack. Alcohol content of 6.6 percent. That worked.

I picked it up and walked back through the aisles. Cas was waiting at the cash register with the hairpins. I smiled at him, walking to him and not paying attention. Quickly, another woman walked through the variety store doors. I bumped into her, dropping the beer. A bottle broke, splashing over her high heel boots. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” I said, scrambling to pick up the glass. I held it carefully in my hands until the cash register woman, who’s name tag read ‘Claire’ came and took it from me in a paper towel. I looked back at the woman, who was still fixated on her boots.

“Ugh, smell like beer and I’m not even working tonight,” she muttered to herself. She looked up past me, and Claire tossed her a rag from behind the cash register. The woman wiped her boots off before looking back up at me. “Y’know,” she had started, but her angry face softened for some reason. “Never mind. The boots are fine, it’s not a big deal.”

I was shocked. I stared at her for a long moment without even realizing it, until Castiel cleared his throat behind me. “Um, hi,” he said. “I’m Castiel. This is Anna. We’re sorry about that, and would be happy to get them cleaned if that’s needed.”

The woman looked to him. “It’s honestly fine. Just pay attention to where you’re going next time,” she said. The woman disappeared into the aisles, and Castiel and I turned our attention back to the cash register. I apologized for dropping the beer, and Claire said it was fine. We paid, and headed for the door.

Just as we were leaving, I heard Claire ask something, presumably to the woman in the store. “Hey Ruby, you alright?”

Ruby. That was a pretty name.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up to the smell of burning, which was extremely concerning. I threw my door open, peering over the side of the stairs downstairs. I heard a coughing, and a bit of a… laugh? As I made my way down the stairs, it started to more and more distinctly smell like burnt food. Castiel was in the kitchen, waving around a tea towel.

“Cas?” I asked, covering my nose and mouth.

He looked up from the sink, smiling wide. “Hey, Anna. I- uh, kinda burned breakfast,” he admitted sheepishly.

I looked in the sink. Charred bacon and blackened eggs were in a smoking pan under water. “What the hell did you do?” I asked, laughing.

“Well I was just cooking, and then a good song came on and--” Cas started explaining himself, sounding worried. I put my hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll grab something in town. What do you mean, song?” Castiel glanced at the other side of the countertop, where an old radio sat. Old rock music was playing softly. “Is that--”

“Dad's old Ocean-Boy? Yeah. He- uh, told me to give it to you. Housewarming present.”

I thought Dad had hated me. That was something I'd never really gotten over. My mother's disdain I could deal with; we'd never been close growing up. My dad and my aunt Amara were my two prominent parental figures. Knowing he wasn't upset with me, about the divorce or the move, was a relief.

“Hey, don't cry,” Cas said, drawing my attention again. I smiled, pulling him into a hug. “Whoa!” he chuckled.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You're welcome, Anna.”

* * *

 

“The machine ate my coins,” the woman said. She had thick rimmed glasses that magnified her eyes, pale, wrinkled skin and an attitude that was getting on my nerves.

“Mrs. Johnson, I already told you, I know the machine didn't eat your coins. Please leave,” I said. The old woman stared me down and kept arguing, but I wasn't paying attention. The overhead bell on the door rang, and Krissy and her father walked into the laundromat.

They were both carrying baskets of laundry, and Krissy smiled at me as they waited behind Mrs. Johnson. She was still continuing on about her coins. I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Look, Mrs. Johnson. I’m not going to continue with this argument. I know the machine didn't eat your coins. You can either leave by yourself, or I can call Officer Walker to escort you out.” Her magnified pupils eyed me for a moment, before she turned and walked past the Chambers’. The overhead bell rang again just as Krissy Chambers and her father walked up to the counter. “Hey, Krissy,” I smiled.

“Hey Ruby,” she said. I looked up at her dad.

“Kris, why don't you go get a load started,” he said.

Krissy looked up at him and mumbled a displeased “Alright.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, he and I got to talking. “How you doin’, Lee?” I asked.

“Good. Same as always, you know? Work is tiring, rent is rising. Krissy's still sixteen,” Lee laughed.

“I heard that,” Krissy said, loud enough for us to hear.

“Well, that's good,” I said.

“How have you been?” Lee asked.

“Work is tiring, but not slow. Pay is… alright, I guess.” Lee grimaced. I changed the subject. “Is there someone new in town?”

“Uh, maybe. We haven't gotten any calls yet, though.” He had a contract with the local realty office to do flooring and insulation installs. Lee seemed to think about it for a moment. “Yeah, actually. The old foreclosure just outside of town. Not near Earl's, but near the highway.”

“That place is a mess. Why would anyone move in there?” I asked. Lee shrugged.

“Beats me,” Lee said. “Why'd you ask?”

“There was a woman- red hair, tall. She was with a guy, dropped beer on my boots. I didn't recognize them,” I explained.

“Must be them, then,” he said. Then he glanced at Krissy, who has having trouble shoving all the darks into the washer. “I better go help her.” I nodded, smiling at him as he turned away. So there was someone new in town. For some reason, I couldn’t get her off my mind. It was probably me dwelling on the repressed aggression from when she spilled that beer on me.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. My shift ended in ten minutes. My plans tonight were to head to the bar and grab a drink, since it was paycheck day. Along with the red head, my conversation with Meg kept bouncing around my brain. This paycheck would barely cover my rent, and my fridge stock was pretty sparse.

That thought just made me need a drink more. Glancing at the wall again, there were still five minutes to spare. I wasn’t sticking around for them. “Lydia,” I called. She was in the back, counting the laundry soap stock. She was a few years younger than me, but had been working here longer.

“Yeah?” she asked, popping her head around the doorway.

“I’m heading out,” I said, taking off my name tag. I put it in the plastic bowl under the counter, where Eric, our boss, had us keep them.

“Oh, uh. Alright. See you later,” Lydia said. She smiled at me and waived awkwardly. I grabbed my purse from under the counter, saying goodbye to Lee and Krissy as I left. Outside, it was dark. It was only six in the evening, but with winter fast approaching, the sky got darker earlier.

Down the street at the bus stop, I waited on a bench in the cold. I could see my breath in the air as I turned on my phone, opening the bank app. Six hundred dollars were in my account, between my latest two shifts at Earl’s and the three at the laundromat. Plus, I think Benny put an extra fifty bucks in my cheque for patching him up that night. I’d have to scold him for it later.

The bus slid up to the stop, pausing so I could get on. I flashed my bus pass, and the driver nodded at me. I walked to the back of the bus, sitting on the scratched up burgundy cushion. You could tell that people had forgotten about Purgatory. The buses hadn’t been replaced or innovated in about twenty years, except for maybe the computers in the city buildings that had been updated from something used in 1998 to something used in 2010. I figured big city buses were probably just as dirty as the ones in Purgatory, but that was because of frequent use of thousands of people. Here it was just neglect.

Twenty minutes later, the bus stopped at the farthest stop in the city, which was still a good twenty minute walk to Earl’s. I thanked the driver as I got off, and waited until the bus turned around to start walking. Now I was alone at night, near a dark forest and in a three mile radius of where drifters loved to hang out. This walk always got on my nerves.

In the dark, I lit a cigarette. I took a drag as I glanced around me. The trees surrounded this long bend in the road like a cave; they were tall, with long branches touching each other over the freeway. Nestled in the mid-point of that bend, and just in view now, was Earl’s Pub. I could see the old, beat up junkers in the parking lot, along with Meg’s adorable little economy car that she kept in the pub’s parking lot. It couldn’t look more out of place, and it made me giggle.

Eventually I crushed my cigarette under my heel, realizing I wasn’t in the mood for smoking. Some regulars flashed me toothy smiles as they got into their cars, and I did the obligatory please-don’t-assault-me wave. I reached the doors, yanking one open by it’s sticky handle. The first thing I smelled was cigar smoke. Rufus must’ve been visiting.

“Ruby!” I heard from the left of me. At the far side of the bar was the exact man I was thinking about. Rufus, in all of his seventies fashion swagger, smiled at me with arms wide open. A cigar, probably from somewhere tropical, hung from between his lips. Bobby was next to him, a comfortable smile on his face.

“Rufus!” I returned the enthusiasm, walking over to him and into his arms. The man was like my uncle. The cool uncle, specifically, who let you have extra booze on Christmas and brought you cigars back from Cuba for your sixteenth birthday. Speaking of which, “How’ve you been? Done any traveling lately? Bobby told me you got a new job."

“Yes, I did,” he said, looking from me to Bobby. “And it’s gracing me with all the money I could ever need. At this point, I’ll be able to retire in four years instead of ten.” That made me happy. Unlike Bobby, Rufus had had a lot more trouble finding steady employment in Purgatory. I wasn’t going to say it was the racism of the town, but it was the racism of the town.

“That’s great to hear,” I said.

“I can cheers to that,” Bobby said. He spun around in his chair, catching the attention of the bartender, Pat, and ordered another whiskey. Then he turned back to the conversation. “What’re you doing here anyway, kid? Working?"

“No, no. Just needed a drink, really. Where else would I go?” I asked. Just as Pat set the whiskey down in front of Bobby, he answered.

“Somewhere with good beer,” he laughed. Rufus gave a hearty chuckle as well, and I sat down next to the two men and grabbed the drink from in front of Bobby.

“I resent that,” said Benny, popping out from nowhere. “Hey, Ruby. How’ve you been?” he asked.

“I’m good,” I answered automatically. The older men didn’t seem to think twice about the answer, but for a micro-second I saw a look of doubt on Benny’s face. “We were just about to cheers to Rufus’ earlier retirement,” I added.

That got Benny to slide his eyes over to Rufus, smiling so wide you could see his extra sharp canines. “Is that so? How many years now?” Benny asked.

“Four,” Rufus said. Benny reached under the bar, coming up with a bottle of brown liquid. He unscrewed the cap and quickly poured himself a glass.

“To Rufus. May you have a lovely retirement, in four years,” Benny said, raising his glass.

“To Rufus,” Bobby and I said, raising our glasses with Rufus alongside Benny’s. We got to talking, Rufus explaining the carpentry business in Nevada. A few drinks in, I started tuning out. The alcohol had hauled my ass back to my very prevalent money problem, and as I silently nodded along to Rufus’ story, it was all I could think about. Benny popped in and out of the conversation between serving drinks. Every time he glanced at me, he seemed to have a frown on his face. Maybe he thought I would bring up my paycheck? I knew now wasn’t the time. Not with family over.

At one point, Pat came back around to me and set a vodka neat down in front of me. I looked up at him, confused. “I didn’t order this,” I said.

He nodded to someone behind me. I turned, seeing the redhead and the guy from the convenience store. “At first she ordered a Cosmopolitan to give to you. I had to tell her we don’t make those here,” Pat said quietly, laughing. “Anyway, she says sorry…? Didn’t specify about what.”

“Yeah, um. Thanks, Pat,” I said, dismissing him. I quickly grabbed the vodka, getting up. Bobby and Rufus stopped talking for a moment as they watched me storm over to the booth where Convenience Store Couple was. I slid into the booth next to the guy, placing the drink down on the table a little too roughly, causing a bit to slosh out of the glass. “Okay, what the fuck is this?” I asked angrily.

The guy’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head, he was so scared. The redhead had the same look on her face, but she actually said something. “It’s a-a drink. Sorry if you don’t like it, I--”

“What, did you two see me in the convenience store and decide on me as your unicorn? Because guess what? It’s not happening,” I spat, looking at them both.

“No, that’s-that’s not what this is,” the redhead continued. “I’m Anna, this is my _brother_ , Castiel. It’s an apology drink. Did the bartender not tell you?”

Anna and Castiel. They looked out of place and fresh faced, and the her brother had a strange name. But I quickly came to realize that there had been a misunderstanding on my part. “Oh. Well, sorry, I guess,” I mumbled. Anna smiled and laughed a little, calming down. I stared at her for a moment. Then there was awkward silence. “Well, thanks for the drink,” I said, standing up from the booth. I grabbed the glass, nodding to the two of them. “Anna. Castiel. I’ll see you around.” I think she said something else, but I was too far away to hear.

When I turned around, Bobby and Rufus were looking at me like they’d just watched an alien landing. “What?” I asked as I got closer to them.

“What in the Samhain was that?” Bobby asked.

“A… slightly inflammatory, friendly conversation with neighbours. They’re new in town,” I shrugged. Rufus choked on cigar smoke, laughing and waving it out of his face.

“That didn’t seem too friendly,” he said between coughs. I quickly downed the vodka, grabbing my purse off the back of the bar stool.

“It’s not like you two would know,” I retorted. I started feeling the effects of the alcohol as I headed for the doors again. I turned, walking slowly backwards out of the bar. “Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen. It has been a pleasure drinking with you tonight!” I tried making my best KISS face as my back slammed into the door, and I stumbled slightly out of Earl’s. I laughed all the way to the bus stop, until I was on another cold bench, this time under a fluorescent light that kept flickering on and off.

I stopped laughing when I realized I was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

When I woke up, my whole body ached. My mouth tasted like sand, nose dry with the scent of cigar smoke. Somewhere in my ear, there was a jackhammer going to town on my eardrum. It took a moment, but as I opened my eyes everything rushed back to me. The bar. Rufus, explaining the cigar smoke. Bobby. Drinking. And that woman from the convenience store. Anna.

Mortification set in not just at the drunken mess I’d displayed, but also me from confusing her brother as her boyfriend. Accusing her of stalking me didn’t help either. I rolled onto my stomach, shoving my face into my pillow and groaned. Under it, I felt something hard and rectangular. My phone.

Turning it on, I saw several notifications for messages and a few phone calls. All from Meg, starting at around when I got home last night.

_ Where are you? Heard what happened at the bar. _

_ Ruby? Pick up the phone. _

_ Are you alright? _

 

My first thought was that she would fuss over me once I got to work that night. Her concern must have increased ten fold because of that drunken display. Pat must have told her. Another part of my mind suspects Benny, but he wouldn’t do that. He knew we all had our own ways of dealing with shit. Not that last night was dealing with anything. Because everything was how it always was for everyone. Money problems, low socioeconomic status, being on the brink of going without food every week. The American dream.

There was a knock outside my room, at my front door. I ignored it, laying in my bed and closing my eyes. Maybe if I stayed like this a little longer, I could drift back to sleep. The knocking continued. I pushed myself up, reluctantly getting out of bed. My room’s floor was invisible, covered by a disastrous array of clothing. There were more covering the colourfully stained carpet than in my closet.

My bedroom door was open, and as I stepped through it, I realized I was only in my underwear. I couldn’t answer the door like that. Looking over my shoulder, I quickly scanned the floor before walking back and grabbing an over-sized shirt off out of a pile of clothes. It wasn’t actually over-sized- a one night stand’s. He never got it back, clearly.

The knocking got louder, clearly translating the person outside’s annoyance. “Hold on!” I whined, walking quickly. I unlocked it, opening it as far as the chain latch would extend. There stood Meg, a pissed off grimace on her face.

“Finally,” she muttered.

“Hi, Meg. Nice to see you too.”

We stood there for another moment, before she uncrossed her arms. “Well, are you going to let me in?” she asked.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried.”

Meg sighed. “Well, now I’m extra worried.” Her grimace turned to a look of concern. Her mouth was in a soft line, bordering on a frown. I closed the door again, staring at the chain for a moment before sighing myself. I reached up, unlatching it and opening the door again. Meg walked into my apartment, and I closed the door. I caught a quick peak of the lime tinted hallway- it looked like a shit show, as always.

Meg stood in my cramped living room, looking around. There were several empty coffee mugs on the dirty glass table in front of the couch, which was leather and had more than a few tears in it. Across from it on the floor was the TV. It was a bulky piece of shit, a gift from my neighbour Kevin. He was rather resourceful and sweet for a teenager.

“That’s new,” she said, pointing to it.

“Gotta’ entertain myself somehow,” I said. “What’s up, Meg? I got your message. And the seven others. And the phone calls.”

“I came to check on you. Make sure some townie didn’t kidnap you off the bus or something,” she said.

“You clearly don’t hold much trust for public transit,” I joked. Meg didn’t laugh. “Well, I’m here, I’m alive. Mission accomplished.”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “Maybe you could come live with me.” The proposition split me in two. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes, tell her to piss off with her pity bullshit. Another part of me was scolding myself for that. Meg cared, and the offer was genuine. It was an opportunity to dig myself out of this shit hole, maybe even get things even semi-on the right track. That part of me sounded too much like my mother, so I went with the former. Because fuck that bitch.

“I don’t need your help,” I said. “I’m doing perfectly fine on my own.”

“Are you, Ruby?” Meg challenged. “We’ve been working together, what? Five years now. And as time goes on, things just seem to get worse.” She walked closer to me. “I love you like a sister. It hurts watching you inch your way through all of this, all the time. I just want to help you, Ruby. You and I both know what this town can do to a person.”

My eyes burned, chest heaving slightly. A quiet rage that was always somewhere in the back of my mind took over. I wanted to slap her. I knew what she was implying- that I was like my mother; my  _ father.  _ Flickering lights of human beings, tainted with shit and crushed by whatever made Purgatory the town it was.

“I think you need to go,” I said. My voice was calm, the exact opposite of what I was feeling. Meg’s face changed quickly to one of regret, but she didn’t say anything. She walked through the living room, opening the door and leaving just as quickly as she arrived. When the door clicked shut behind her, I let go of the restraint, letting tears fall down my face. The last thing I ever wanted was to be like my parents. Now I knew that was the one and only thing I was spiraling towards.

* * *

 

Cas had left in the early morning, taking an empty U-Haul back home with him. That left me alone in a house again. It was full of my own furniture now, but it still felt empty. As the seasons slowly changed, I noticed that it got colder, too.

I sat, feet up on the arm rest of the couch. Last night had been interesting. I was still thinking about that drunk lady from the bar, who I’d spilt beer on at the convenience store. We’d met twice now- that couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? I didn’t know. Ever since the revelation that my father didn’t hate me, I’d been questioning everything.

It was raining outside. I could tell by just looking at them that the water drops were ice cold. That, and the fact that it was November and snow would be fast approaching. They said that it rained a lot here during the summer months here. I tried to imagine it; a grim, wet summer while the rest of the country reveled in sunshine.

Something cold touched my foot. I drew it back, startled. Looking up at the ceiling, I saw a growing dark patch. A drop of water fell, this time onto the couch. My shoulders sagged as I frowned. Shoddy disaster of a house. A leaky roof was no exception.

Walking to the kitchen, I grabbed a pale I found under the sink. I placed it next to the couch, right under where the water was dripping. As a drop fell in, it made a loud metallic sound. It was already dreadfully annoying.

The previous owners, whenever and whoever that had been, had left a phone book in the back of the front hall closet. I was finding myself sort of glad that the foreclosing bank had pretty much just let the house sit, minus removing the all of the furniture. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have had a leaky roof problem if they hadn’t.

There was only one roofer in the phone book, which was at least a decade old, if not older. Benny LaFitte. The ink of the phone number next to the name was faded but still legible. I dialed the number, standing in my living room as water fell from the ceiling. After a few rings, it stopped.

 

“The number you are calling is not available,” a robot droned. I hung up, letting out a sigh of disappointment. This Benny LaFitte was probably geriatric now, in some nursing home in Fargo. Of course he wouldn’t pick up the phone, if it even existed anymore.

 

I sat back down on the couch. Things were going to get a lot more complicated from here.


End file.
